


Helltake Me Home

by Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX



Category: Helltaker (Video Game)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Family Angst, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Helltaker has a son, Mythology References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX/pseuds/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX
Summary: This isn't The Helltakers first time around the block, he's got the offspring to prove it. Said offspring returns home from college to find his room, and most of the house, taken over by demonesses that are all apparently banging his dad.The first impressions could have gone better, admittedly.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, The Helltaker (Helltaker) & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	1. The Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, I'm terrible about updating works at all, let alone consistently. 
> 
> That being said, I remember reading this one fan-comic where Helltaker had a son (think it was based off the heaventaker ending?) And I thought to myself "But what if he really did have a son? What kind of kid would he be considering who raised him? And how would he react to his dad suddenly getting a demon harem on a whim and giving them his room while he was out of town?" 
> 
> I dunno. I'm making up the answers to those questions as I go, but so far the conclusion is "It'd be a glorious disaster" and those are always fun to read about aren't they?

A young man steps out from a cab in the dead of night, tiredly handing the driver a few extra bills as thanks for driving so far from the airport. The research trip he went on was… less enlightening than he had hoped. He blames himself for getting his hopes up for once. He reflects as he slumps against the front door groggily getting his keys into the hole. He’s barely a year into his masters-program, he isn’t about to start turning heads and getting research grants with what he’s put together so far, he should know this, he’s only just started. But that’s not really true either. He’s been working on these ideas of his, this research since he could write. Granted, “similarities between Indo-European folklore and religions” isn’t exactly as much of a hot-ticket item as, say, how to make lasers, but he wishes his field would get some recognition already. 

He closes the door behind him quietly, tugging the carry-on bag containing the few belongings he brought with him on his travels inside before resting it by the door frame. His father alternates between sleeping through just about anything and waking up at the slightest sound with a desert-eagle in one hand and a machete in the other, so he might as well try to avoid making noise. He leaves the carry-on propped up where it is. He can put the old clothing inside through the wash in the morning. Well, afternoon maybe. It’s apparently 3:03AM and he feels like he could sleep for an entire day in his current state. He shuffles to the base of the stairwell, opting to take off his boots before padding up slowly, his socks muffling the sound of his ascent. “God my legs are sore” he thinks to himself. Every library and university he toured on his trip managed to have elevator issues, as did the airport. Granted, he wasn’t unfit by any means, but stairs just always seemed to make him suffer. Finally he reaches the second floor and begins making his way down the hallway. He can’t discern why but the house feels… different than usual. Almost like it’s less empty. Normally he’d be happy about that, it’s something that’s gnawed at him the past few years, but it’s not a good kind of occupied. It’s more like a “You know you’re not alone when you really should be” kind. The horror movie kind. All the doors to all the rooms are closed shut as he passes them, but with his eyes downcast and his mind working on mulling over the odd feeling, he doesn’t notice the nameplates that now adorn each. He finally reaches his own, going straight for the handle and again missing sight of the newly added nameplates. Shrugging off his jacket and letting his boots fall with a clatter, he flops down onto his mattress with a heavy sigh, immediately curling up against the pillow…

...Only to feel warm breath ghost across his skin.

Adrenaline surges through his body as fear overtakes him, registering the unwarranted sensation. His eyes shoot open, and he’s met with two piercing red orbs staring right into him between unkempt white locks that look speckled with blood. With an undignified shriek he launches himself backwards, slamming against the dresser in his tired state and pawing furiously in the dark to find something to defend himself with. His hands find purchase on the handle of the steel baseball bat he left propped up against it before he left, and his knuckles quickly go almost as white as the unnaturally pale skin of the person (at least he hopes it’s just a person) lying in his bed. Rather than scaring them off, it only seems to excite them, as they let out an odd, almost lewd ‘oooooh’ing sound at his haphazard arming. He’s about to start asking questions, when the creature lunges forth, arms outstretched and pupils staring into his soul a bit more literally than he’d imagine. He rolls out of the way and dashes out the door, slamming it shut behind him before tightening his grip on the bat again, wielding it with his back against the door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Wh-what the f-fuck, who-“ 

His panicked confusion is cut short as the door opens, causing him to nearly fall backwards. He just barely recovers and swings around, hearing a slight yelp as his bat just barely misses something, slamming full force into the doorframe and cracking both it and the nearby plaster. He looks to see yet more haunting red eyes, Six of them this time around. Then, he hears a chorus of snarls and growls begin to grow in intensity as the eyes focus in on him and constrict. “NOPE!” The young man shouts as he leaves the bat partially embedded in the doorframe and sprints toward the stairwell. As he’s about to pass the last set of doors, a leg shoots out of one he didn’t notice was already open, a brief hint of acrid smoke invading his nostrils before he free-falls down the stairs, painfully bouncing down them twice before collapsing in an undignified heap on the ground floor with a spluttering cough. He already hears a rush of footsteps from the top floor, and more doors swinging open. In his dazed state, the first place he thinks to run is the kitchen. He only remembers once he gets there that there aren’t any windows to dive through, and wheels back around to face the archway. Already he sees silhouettes dancing along the faint light coming in from the windows, and if it weren’t for everything else he’d seen tonight he’d think himself crazy for swearing he saw the faint outlines of horns atop the shadows. 

His blind panic lasts for all of a second before the primal switch inside of him flips from flight to fight and he remembers who he shares this house with. He slams his fist into the wall to the right of the fridge, his fingers curling around something round and metallic. He wrenches his hand free, pulling the item- a black tactical shotgun coated in dust and paint-chips- out along with it. He quickly grips the gun like a lifeline, cocking it and aiming at the door frame just in time as a veritable horde of horns and red eyes stares him down. “BACK THE FUCK UP!” he barks out, pressing himself up against the fridge. At least his bruised back will be nice and cold if he gets eviscerated here and now, he idly thinks as his heartbeat hammers in his chest. The three sets of eyes lowest to the ground let out a growl, and he notices canine ears atop the heads they’re attached to rather than horns. The figure standing above them in the middle of the group sends chills down his spine, her eyes equal parts cold and amused, and her horns white like chalk. He’s about to just start unloading, when he hears a familiar, deep voice call out to him. 

“Son?” 

He briefly tears his eyes away from the group to look to the right of him, seeing his father in a pair of boxers and gray slippers stopped halfway through grabbing a box of cereal from one of the top cupboards. The confusion at how nonchalant his father seems about the ongoing home invasion combined with the stress and pain inflicted upon him in such a short timeframe cause his brain to short-circuit for a few brief seconds. It’s just enough time for a dark figure to spring forth from the group hanging in the archway. The young man goes to raise his gun back up but fails to do so in time, as a clawed gauntlet clasps around his face and pulls him forward before slamming him full force against the fridge, partially caving in the door and leaving a slight red splotch at the point of impact, a thin red line trailing down from it as the figure of the younger man slumps to the ground unconscious. 

“AHA! THE TRESSPASSER HAS BEEN INCAPACITATED!... WHY ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?” 

The Helltakers eyes widened behind the sunglasses he wore even in the dead of night, fixated upon his KO’d son.


	2. The Sour and the Sinless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood memories, namedrops, and the first of many introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this fic got a positive response so far. Considering it's an OC fic especially that's... surprising. Welp, I work well under pressure (except when I crack) so let's hope I don't disappoint!

“C’mon, quit your crying.” The large man said, looking down on his young son with his trademark shades. 

“B-but it hurts.” The boy says in-between sobs and sniffles, clutching at the back of his head. 

“Of course it does, you just bounced off the concrete like a rubber ball.” The man reaches down, grabbing his sons’ wrist and hoisting him up to his feet. “What do you think the lesson here is?” 

“W-what?” 

“The lesson. There’s one to be learned here. What do you think it is?” 

The boy took his hands down from the back of his head, now wringing them as he tried to come up with an answer. “Never let my guard down?” 

“M-hmm. Exactly.” 

The boy looked towards the direction his assailants ran off to. “But they were running away.” 

“Didn’t stop the one in the hat from chucking a rock at your head on his way out.” 

“Th-that was cheating!” 

“Yeah. It was. People do that sometimes. Especially the ones that like to pick fights for no reason. Sooner you learn that, the sooner it stops taking you by surprise.” Neither said anything for a time, the man eventually turning on his heel and beginning to walk out of the park. 

“W-why didn’t you help?” the boy asks, causing the man to pause, although not look back. “Th-there were three of them. I could’ve gotten hurt- I did get hurt!” 

The man turns around, and the boy withers under his gaze a little, shrinking in on himself. 

“But you won.” Again both fall silent, the only things heard being the summer breeze and the distant sounds of people having a much better time with their day. “I won’t always be there to protect you. Besides, you’re my son. That means you’re strong. You proved that today. Now you just gotta work on your senses.” The man tilts his head in the direction of the car, and the boy shuffles after him, eyes still downcast. They get in and put on their seatbelts, the man adjusting the rear-view mirror to see the boy. “You still won, though. Want some ice-cream to celebrate?” 

The boy nods without looking up. Any self-respecting child wouldn’t turn down the chance at ice-cream, but it’s not what he really wants from his father at the end of the day.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“I think he’s waking up.” A polite sounding voice says. 

“Hm… you sure? Kinda looks like he’s death-rattling.” A grumpy voice replies. 

“Don’t say that! How will Mr. Taker react if his own child expires? Wait, his eyes are opening up!” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The young man awakens clutching his head, wincing as he gets up and sees stars dancing in his vision along with- “Oh God am I dead?” He asks aloud as his eyes lock onto the halo hanging above him. 

The woman it’s attached to (is that right?) scoots back a little, fixing her bright blue eyes upon him. “Oh goodness, silly me! I really should’ve remembered waking up to an angel after a bad injury tends to make mortals assume the worst. No, you’re still alive, safe and sound at home. I’m Azazel by the way, pleased to meet you!” 

“Don’t really associate ‘home’ with ‘safe’ personally, but thanks.” His eyes drift to the right, locking in on a second woman, albino in appearance save for the two black horns protruding out of her head. He lurches back so hard the couch tips over, sending him rolling into a shaky squatted position. “Oh shit, YOU AGAIN!” 

“…Have we met?” The demoness asks. Suddenly the angel is in-between them, putting her hands up in a placating manner. 

“No no no, young sir, really it’s fine! Malina means you no harm, nor was she involved in last night’s escapades.” 

“Yeah, fuck that noise, I was pulling another all-nighter. That PC Helltaker hooked me up with has a pretty beefy graphics card. Had to clear out a bunch of old files to make space for new games though.” 

“Wait… which PC?” 

Malina swirls around the bottle in her hand, pausing halfway to taking a sip. “Uh, the one upstairs in that room filled with nerd shit. Why?” 

The man’s eyes widen and he jumps up from the floor, rushing up the stairs and slamming open one of the doors as Azazel and Malina follow after. His voice is faint, but the closer they get the easier it is to hear him above the sound of keys and clicks muttering “no no no no No NO FUCK!” 

Malina barely pokes her head through the door before a knife whizzes past and nearly clips her horn. 

The man is holding another, a look of cold fury on his face. “What did you do?” 

Malina inspects the knife in the wall and scoffs. “Huh, thought those were just weird looking paperweights. Figures they’re real. Anyways junior, I didn’t do shit, but what I’m going to do-“ she smashes her bottle against the wall, spraying glass shards and alcohol as she brandishes the broken remainder at him with a bored gaze “Is kick your ass if you keep being a little punk.” 

He begins to edge forward still brandishing the knife despite the honest threat. “There was years’ worth of research on this computer, but now- for some fucking reason-! I can only seem to access a bunch of decrepit old strategy games from the 90’s which I know weren’t there when I left. My old man never bothers with this room, and if the pile of vodka bottles in the corner are any indication, I imagine you’ve spent a bit of time in here recently. So please, Malina was it? Kindly explain to me what the fuck you did to my life’s work.” 

Malina responds with a growl and begins to advance, Azazel agains slipping between the two before things can escalate. “Please! I understand violence is a normal occurrence in this household-“ 

“Tch, of course it still is” the man mutters. 

“-But I believe we’ve had more than our fair share within the last 24 hours! Now Mr…?” 

“Zacharias.” 

“Really? I mean it’s a nice name just not what I pegged you as- anyways! Mr. Zacharias, I assure you that Malina would not have deleted the files as she did had Mr. Helltaker not granted her access to this room and specifically told her the computer was hers to use. To be frank, we didn’t even know you existed until last night.” 

Zacharias glared one last time at Malina before slowly beginning to lower his knife. He finally drops it when he sees her reciprocate. It clatters to the floor as he lets out a long, drawn out sigh before rubbing his temples. 

“It’s… Well it’s not fine by any standard but it certainly isn’t your fault. Directly, anyways. Funny thing is this isn’t even the first time I’ve lost research on account of my dad being careless. I’ve rebuilt before. I can do it again.” 

Azazel claps her hands together and smiles brightly. “That’s the spirit, sir! Thank you for being so understanding, truly virtuous.” 

“It’s just shrugging it off and moving forward, but thanks I guess. Besides, I still have everything in the study.” 

Azazel’s smile falters a little. “T-the study?” 

“Yeah, the one under the staircase. Got everything nice and organized. My system’s a little byzantine but it works wonders for me. As long as I got that, I’m not set all that far back.” 

Azazel begins to laugh nervously, tapping her fingers together and avoiding eye-contact. After a beat, Zacharias realizes something’s wrong. 

“Azazel?” 

“Hm?” 

“I’m going to go down to the study now.” 

“Oh- I mean uh ha ha don’t you think maybe you should lie back down and-“ 

“No, no. I’m going. Right now. I’ll be right back. Just want to check up on the place.” 

He gently moves her out of the way as he walks past the door with a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. When he’s gone, the devil and the angel share a look. They hear his plodding footsteps go down the stairs, around the carpet, and finally the click as the door under the archway opens…

…And then they hear the screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, typing/prose mistakes can and should be pointed out. I'm very rusty when it comes to writing so any criticism is appreciated, especially in regards to the story.  
> I haven't fleshed out Sontaker that much yet but if I see certain aspects of him get appreciation I'll try and stay true to those. Again, thanks for reading.
> 
> EDIT:  
> Chapter reposted as of 1/1/2021 with more line breaks to avoid clutter when reading at the suggestion of the comments. Hopefully this is an improvement. New years resolution was to post more so a new chapter with the new format should arrive shortly.


	3. Reclaiming the Holy Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zacharias has a chat with the two characters he's met thus far while undoing some of his father's renovation. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So having to quarantine at home sucks. Having to do it a second time reeeeallly sucks, especially when it coincides with the start of the semester. Anyways, here's what I got, mostly character development and a lot of dialogue. Next chapter should be the end of the introduction.

Zacharias stands in the front lot of his middle school in the dead of autumn. The sun has almost set and, just his luck, the wind’s picking up the one day he forgets to bring his jacket. One of his classmates, Duke, noticed him almost half an hour ago as he went to get into his mothers car. The woman in the driver’s seat offered him a ride, but he had waved it off with a forced smile. His father would be here any second, he said he’d pick him up today after all. And if Zach’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t want to impose. Him and Duke have only sat together at lunch seven or so times this semester, but it’s the closest thing to a friendship he’s managed to acquire. He convinced himself that he’d only be a burden if he accepted their generosity, and inevitably he’d leave like the rest. 

Zach fumbles to get his phone out of his jeans with now numbing fingertips, thankful that the denim is good at keeping the cold out for at least half of his body. He finally manages to free the device from his pocket, an early 2000’s Nokia. Zach had initially protested when his father had handed it to him, knowing full well that his job (which seemed to be sporadic and often oversees) paid more than enough for them to afford a better model. The man insisted the phone he got was the best for quote “impromptu fights” and offered no further explanation. He dialed in his father’s number, his breath beginning to ghost in front of him, and waited as it rung. When the call opened, he was immediately met with a wall of sound like that from a Call of Duty lobby, wincing as he held the device further from his ear.

“Dad?”

“Zach? The hell is it, I’m kind of in the middle of something- (ping!) SHIT!”

“DAD!?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m just uh… at the gun range! Yeah! So if you don’t mind-“

“D-dad you said you’d pick me up.”

“(fuck was that today?) Listen, son, I’m really sorry but work kinda called in last minute and you know how it’s really do-or-die at the office.” 

“Office? I thought you were a security specialist?” 

“Uh I am! For an office building! Really big important one, which is where I’m at now!”

“You just said you were at the gun range!”

A series of loud cracks and pops can be heard from the phone, as his father curses in their ancestral tongue. 

“Look son, I’m at work and I can’t talk right now, just walk home. You’re a big boy! The key’s under the rock, we’ll talk later.” 

“But-!”

-Click-

After a long pause Zach lets out a shuddering sigh, half from the cold and half from exasperation. Well, it’s an hour’s walk to get back home if he keeps a good pace. ‘Hopefully’, he thinks to himself, ‘the movement will help me warm up.’   
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“Uh m-m-mister Zacharias? What are you doing?” Azazel asks, peaking her head through the door.

“Reclamation.” He grunts, hoisting an entire filing cabinet up and off the ground before beginning to trudge out the door. 

Malina finally makes it down the stairs, eyes widening at the sight of him holding the treasure-trove of infernal documentation. “Uh, dude, listen that’s really not a good idea. That stuff-“

“Doesn’t belong in that room. I’m- (fuck this is heavy) Rectifying the situation!” 

“Dude pretty soon the only things that’s gonna get rectified is your asshole when Pandemonica finds out you ruined her office space.”

Malina and Azazel both winced as he let the filing cabinet drop with a clatter the second he was out the front door, just barely steadying it before going back inside to grab more of the study’s contents. 

“Kid, I get we got off on the wrong foot but this really isn’t a good idea.” 

“Malina’s right, sir, Pandemonica was given stewardship of the room by your father. Now, granted he should’ve mentioned it was in use instead of just “dusty old storage,” but had she known the documentation inside was important I’m certain she would’ve left it be! If you just put everything back where it was and talk it out with her when she returns-!”

Zach slams the second filing cabinet down and takes a deep breath before addressing Azazel.

“Look, I appreciate the concern. But I don’t know who you two are, I don’t know why you’re here, and I’m just going to be honest, I don’t care. I’m only here for a few weeks before the next semester starts back up. My arrival is standard procedure, believe it or not. I don’t know why my dad decided to spring some renovation like he forgot I existed…” He pauses a little bit at that part, eyes going distant before snapping back to focus. “…But this isn’t just some fucking vacation for me. Especially since my computer was apparently wiped clean, I need to get everything that I don’t recognize out of this room so I can begin to recoup my losses. That doctorate isn’t gonna earn itself.” 

“Zacharias, I- wait, you’re getting a doctorate? You barely look out of high school.” Azazel points out.

“I’m fucking twenty years old!” 

“Still, isn’t that like, early by human standards?”

“Well, when you have no social life to speak of and a big empty house all to yourself half the time, you get ahead on schoolwork. Very. Ahead.” 

Zach dumped yet another filing cabinet outside in the steadily growing pile, speaking to the pair as he walked back. 

“I’m guessing you two aren’t human yourselves judging by that comment?”

“Just accepting it that quickly?” Malina pointed out.

“Despite how much my brain rattled inside my skull last night I’m fairly certain I saw at least nine of you who were ivory-skinned, red eyed and bearing horns. Abrahamic demons right, I’m guessing of the Christian variety?”

“Pretty much. How’d you figure?”

Zach took a moment to answer as he struggled to balance a large stack of books in his arms. Just because he was tossing them out of the room didn’t mean he was going to haphazardly let them clatter around. 

“Years of research. While I’m more interested in older pagan faiths, I diversified into religion and occultism. Figured if I cast a broader net it’d be easier to land a professor gig. Still kind of wondering why there’s an angel alongside a demon, though. You don’t seem to be fallen, what gives?”

“Ah, well I actually ran into the Helltaker and the others as he journeyed through the levels of the underworld on his quest.”

“Wait, my father was dead?”

“What? No, no! He just sort of… walked into hell? Is that about right Malina?”

“Pretty much, Pande was the first one to bump into him n’ she said he just sorta walked up to her out of nowhere.”

“He just… No that’s- that’s impossible. You don’t just WALK into hell. Unless… No. No not going down that train of thought. Got to give him some credit after all, even he can’t be that dense. So, Azazel right, you were down there for…?”

“Research purposes! I’m actually undergoing studies myself, believe it or not. Trying to write a thesis paper to become an established demonologist.” 

“Fuck there’s college in heaven too? I don’t have to go through it again do I?”

“Erm, no. It’s not college so much as angel school. I’m only about a hundred or so years old, actually. I get by mortal standards that’s quite long but for angels I’m still fresh from the clouds, as it were.” 

“Huh. Neat. Welp, looks like this is the last of it.” Zach says, sizing up the office desk that remains in the otherwise baren room.

“Really can’t convince you to quit before Pande gets back huh junior?”

“If what you’re trying to say is you can’t convince me to stop taking back MY study, you’re right. Besides, I’ve already had the back of my skull dented by a fridge door. What’s she gonna do to top that, immolate me?”

The words barely left Zach’s lips before a long black whip cracked through the air and wrapped tightly around his throat. Malina and Azazel got out of the way as he was yanked forward and grabbed by the neck by someone he hadn’t recognized from last night. She stood taller than the other demons, her horns among the largest he’d yet seen. Her eyes were narrowed into red slits and her face was pulled into a small, sadistic smirk, the faintest trace of coffee hanging off of her lips. 

“Actually,” She drawled, voice dripping with venom. “I’d say such impudent desecration of my workspace warrants breaking out the nine-tails.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you have any suggestions or noticed any errors, please point them out. Thank you for reading.


	4. The Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The customary opening flash-back, fights, broken windows and internal bleeding! And the reveal we've all been waiting for! (And Zach's been dreading!)
> 
> All this and more in today's installment of "Helltake Me Home!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah it's been a month and a bit. Sorry about that. Tried to make the chapter a little bigger to make up for it. Good news is I somehow still have A's in all my classes! The bad news is final projects are imminently approaching and I fear for my life. UNIVERSITY!

Zacharias never really understood the appeal of loitering. He adhered to the rule that an object in motion stays in motion as far as his life went. If he wasn’t moving, he was still doing something with his time, like sleeping or studying. Milo, on the other hand, held no such beliefs. 

Milo Smith was a relatively average high schooler. Average height, average weight, average grades. He had friends, and they hung out sometimes. They differed from other high-schoolers in that while most kids their age saw movies or went to each-others houses to play fighting-games, they spent their time sharing a pack of cigarettes one of them had managed to swipe from their parents, or a convenience store. They’d always do it in the same spot, on the same days, for the same amount of time. Zacharias had gotten it down almost to a T to avoid having to deal with them.

Almost. 

But while they usually only hung out twice a week, (once on Monday and then once on Friday, on a lonely park bench near the sidewalk) for whatever reason, they were sat there on a Thursday night. The same night Zacharias was trying to get home after his father left him at school. Again.

Zacharias didn’t pretend to understand why Milo took such pleasure in tormenting him. Maybe he was jealous that both of them were Juniors while Zach was still two years younger than him. Maybe he realized that life didn’t have much promise for someone that stood out as little as he did. Maybe he was just a jerk. But whatever chance he got, he’d corner Zach, sometimes by himself and sometimes with his friends, and lay into the kid. It usually never escalated beyond shoving him roughly against a wall or squeezing his arm hard enough to give him a faint bruise. 

Zach always endured it. He could almost definitely beat Milo despite the slight size difference between them, and he could probably do well enough against his whole little group to scare them off, but that would involve fighting. Fighting drew attention, the kind of attention that makes marks on permanent records and disqualifies you from the best universities. Milo seemed vaguely aware of this too, having always gone after Zach when there were no staff around, or when they were off school grounds. The latter was always the worst, usually involving Zach being frisked for whatever pocket-change he had on him. He was loathe to part with it, but it was the easier way out. And some small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that people show their true colors when no one else is around. Milo’s, he feared, might just be a bit violent. 

Zach weighed his options as he noticed the faint glow of cigarettes and heard their distant voices. He could make a detour, but there was nothing but woodlands to the left or right of him for at least three blocks, so best case scenario he’d be home an hour later if he didn’t get lost the second he was able to make another turn. He sighed as he accepted the fastest way, even with a hold up, was straight ahead. And so he began to march. Gravel crunched under his feet, defeating the point of any stealth. Above the crunching the voices grew clearer with closeness, and Zach felt a nervous pit in his stomach grow as he noticed the slurred tone each had. Sometimes he could smell alcohol on Milo’s breath whenever he got in his face, but he’d never met him when he was in the process of getting drunk. Part of him hoped that maybe, between the darkness and the inebriation, Milo wouldn’t notice him as he walked past.

“Oi! Junior!”

Hope was bullshit.

Zach tried to ignore him, picking up the pace just a hair and hiking up his shoulders so the collar of his jacket might better obscure his face, but that did him no favors. Milo bounded over and drunkenly slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet as he pulled him into a side-hug with one arm and gave him a noogie with the other. 

“It IS you! Whatchu doing out so late little man, don’t you know it’s dangerous for kids after dark? Some motherfucker in a white van’s gonna get your ass, hehe!”

Zach nearly gagged when the smell of his breath finally hit his nostrils. To their left he could hear Milo’s friends laughing. 

“Ya know you’re absolutely right Milo, which is why I’m trying to get home even quicker. So-“ Zach said, trying to break out of the loose hold only for it to tighten and yank him back.

“Ey ey come on junior, that’sh no way to treat your favorite classmate. Come on, why don’t you make a little donation, eh?”

“I don’t have anything on me tonight man.” 

“Don’t be stingy, know you got some shit in there.” Milo slurred as his hand started to fumble with Zach’s pants, reaching into his pockets. 

Zach decided he’d had enough and lined his elbow up with the center of Milo’s chest, shoving him forcefully and nearly making him stumble, allowing him to break out of his grip. 

“I don’t have time for you tonight, Milo.”

Milo’s confused face quickly morphed into a scowl as his hand surged forth, quicker than Zach expected it’d be able to, and clasped around his throat. 

“Don’t fucking talk down to me you little bitch! Think you’re hot shit just cause you got moved up two grades, but I’ve seen your dad! Action-movie looking motherfucker like that must hate having a little-shit son like you!”

The grip around Zach’s neck got uncomfortably tight, causing his fight instincts to kick in. From one second to the next, he remembered a lesson his dad gave him about breaking out of someone bigger’s hold. His leg shot up from under him, bending at the knee as the joint rocketed straight into Milo’s sack, causing him to howl and bring his hands down to cup his wounded package. It took a moment for Zach to realize what he’d just done, but once he did he promptly turned on his heel and ran, faster than he ever had in his entire life.   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Contrary to popular belief, getting a knee straight to the crotch hurts immensely whether or not one has testicles. It also hurts whether or not the individual on the receiving end is a demon or a human. Azazel and Malina’s jaws hit the floor at the sight of someone retaliating against the scariest person in the house. 

Pandemonica stumbled backwards with a hiss as her grip on the handle of her whip loosened, enough for Zach to yank his head back and take it with him, it still being wrapped around his neck. He quickly unbound it and chucked it behind him before assuming a fighting stance, Pandemonica now standing at her full height before unclasping her hands, her fingers transforming into jagged, narrow claws, like scalpels in appearance. 

“You’re the one that trashed my office.” He said, still as a statue.

“Oh, the irony in what you just said is richer than my morning blend.” She replied, a lilt to her voice as her already narrowed pupils constricted yet further, her grin evolving into a full-blown manic Cheshire smile. “You know I wondered how you’d measure up to your father and I have to say, you’re much better at getting me riled up.” 

“And I’m still wondering why you’re all here but mostly I want to know where the fuck my files are.”

“Oh, you mean these?” a new voice called out, drawing Zacharias and Pandemonica’s attention. 

Their gaze landed upon another demoness, clad in a simple red button up, black jeans, arm-bands and a considerable number of piercings. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips, which were splayed into a shit-eating grin. Tucked under her right arm was a thick portfolio, brimming with paper.

“Hey Junior, nice to meet you. Well, we already sorta met last night but-“

“Are you the one that tripped me down the stairs?” Zach interrupted, the similarities between her and one of his many childhood bullies not helping his first impression in the slightest. 

“Guilty as charged. Figured a vacation would be a pretty good welcoming gift and, hey, it was the nicest trip I could afford!” 

Malina groaned at her sister’s awful joke, while Azazel hid her mouth behind her hands as a little snicker escaped it. Zacharias glanced down at the portfolio in her arm, then back up at her. 

“How about you give me that instead?”

“Oh this? Got it from Panedmonica. She told me to ‘deal with it.’ Never did get around to doing that. Here, lemme just-“

“Wait, what are you-!”

And then the portfolio spontaneously combusted. The whole thing was wreathed in flame one minute and dissipated into ash the next. Zach felt something in his eye burst.

“For the record, I meant to put it in the attic.” Pandemonica drawled, grinning as she saw Zach begin to shake.

“Hey, I dealt with it didn’t I? Anyways, what were you saying junior?... Oh dang, your eyes are red too. Ain’t that a thing.”  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Outside the house, a minivan pulled up. Out of it stepped the Cerberus triplets, Justice, Judgement, Lucifer, and a very tired Helltaker. All of them held groceries in their hands as they walked towards the door. Helltaker had been bombarded with questions the second they all got in the car that morning, weirdly enough most of them came from Judgement. She seemed horrified with having accidentally concussed his son, both for obvious moral reasons and because it was apparently a huge no-no to punish the innocent for crimes they did not commit. Helltaker had to remind her that they’d been with him for a few months already and heaven didn’t come knocking on their door (unlike local law enforcement) so she probably wasn’t going to be punished for the mistake. After her, Justice and Cerberus double-teamed him (quadruple teamed?) asking about how he went about making a son in the first place.

“Is he adopted?” “Is your wife still around?” “Are you having an affair with all of us?” Cerberus asked, one after the other. 

“Yeah gotta side with paw-patrol on this one, is there a Mrs. Helltaker? Modeus is gonna be heartbroken if there is. Or, well maybe not. The whole ‘forbidden love’ thing might send her into overdrive now that I think about it.”

“Can we please not talk about this?” he groaned, hefting the largest bag under his arm as he went to find the house key on his ring. “At least until after breakfast?”

“Much as I enjoy your chocolate confections dear I do have to agree with Cerberus on this one, God that feels weird to say. We’re going to need to be filled in on the boy.” Lucifer said.

“And you will, I promise. Let’s just eat first. Besides it’d be better to hear some of this from him, and I doubt he’s even awake yet.”

Just as he was about to unlock the door, a red blur shot out- sorry, THROUGH the living-room window. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be Zacharias, who’s hands were gripped firmly onto Zdrada’s shoulders as they hurtled through the air then onto the lawn.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

“Jesus fuck!” Zdrada swore as they rolled to a stop a few inches shy of the sidewalk. Zacharias began raining punches down onto her, spittle and what looked to be foam dripping from his mouth as he shrieked. Zdrada blocked the first few before managing to get her legs under his mid-section and kicking as hard as she could. Her demonic strength sent him a few feet away, skidding past the mail-box. He grabbed onto it’s post almost instinctually then got up and yanked it from the ground, brandishing it like an improvised warhammer. Helltaker noticed that his eyes were red. He’d probably popped another blood-vessel.

The mailbox swung down hard and would’ve hit Zdrada if a clawed metal gauntlet hadn’t intercepted the catch. Zach looked up and saw someone he knew.

“YOU!” He bellowed, yanking the mailbox back towards him. The sudden jerk threw Judgement off balance and he tried to capitalize by tossing a haymaker her way, only for her to block it, then the next several strikes that came her way. 

“Listen, kid, I’m- shit- sorry about last night! Can you please stop!?”

Zach didn’t reply, instead continuing his barrage of punches. Each one was caught or parried by Judgement, the full force collision between his hands and the plating of her gauntlets probably leaving hair-line fractures by now. Whatever pain he felt was dulled by the adrenaline. 

A sharp whistle rang out and suddenly three blurs slammed into him, a weight laying itself atop his legs, and two more on each of his arms. 

“FAAAAAAAUGH! GET THE FUCK OFFA ME!”

“No.” “Nah.” “Nuh-uh.” Cerberus replied as they pinned him cross-style.

“Son calm down!”

“DAD WHO THE FUCK ARE THESE CHICKS!?”

“They’re my harem!”

“YOUR… come again?”

“They’re my harem. Uh… surprise.”

Zach stopped struggling, his blood-shot eyes zeroing in on his father and causing him to sweat a little while Justice was off to the side helping Zdrada up. 

“Look uh, how about we all step inside and just put everything out on the table, yeah?” 

Cerberus hesitantly got off of Zach, allowing him to stiffly get up. He never took his eyes off of his father. After a tense moment of silence, he pointed to the still locked door and said “Well? I’m not crawling back in through the window.”   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And so, about fifteen minutes later, Zach had the full story. He had… feelings about it.

“So let me just… clarify, I suppose. While I was at Uni, you went through my files to find old rituals, entered into Hell, charmed a whole gaggle of the damned including Lucifer fucking Morningstar, returned to our world, and… did… what harems do, all because of a dream you had?” 

“Yes.” Helltaker muttered.

“And this was halfway through spring term, so this all happened a semester and a half ago at least. And you didn’t think you should maybe, I dunno, call ahead and warn me about the new living arrangements?”

“Well, I mean to be fair I was pretty preoccupied hehe.” He replied, loosening up a little. Lucifer blushed beside him, smacking his arm.

“I’m assuming you at least had the decency to keep it confined to your room?”

“Well-“

“He fucked me in the shower this one time.” “Kitchen-counter.” “Backyard.” “Right where you’re sitting actually.” Several of the demons said one after the other, Zach glancing down at his seat at that last one and noticing a dark spot that wasn’t there the last time he came home. He shuffled a little to the side, eyes like the grave.

“You gave them my room.” He said, voice hollow. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

“Ehehe… well, listen, son, Modeus can get kind of insistent now and then-“

“Fucking…! Please tell me you didn’t use my favorite sheets.”

“No! no no no no no. No. Just the one time. We uh… we kinda had to burn them after.” 

A tearing sound could be heard as Zach dug so hard into the sofa’s armrest that he stripped a few inches of fabric with each finger. He felt something pop in his other eye.

“See I told you his eyes could turn red!” Zdrada called out. Then something cracked. Considering how tight his jaw was clenched and the faint red trickle that started seeping out his lips it might have been one of Zach’s molars.

“Those were Mom’s sheets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know if anything was misspelled or if the prose just felt kinda janky, or if the humor didn't land. Starting next chapter Zach should finally start interacting more casually with the harem. 
> 
> That means he's gonna talk to them, this ain't a mature fic... yet.

**Author's Note:**

> If I made any typos let me know. Like copy past the segment and I'll eventually get around to editing it. This is primarily for the sake of writing but I might as well improve the skill in the process, can't do that if I ignore any mistakes I make. Same deal with the prose. Don't like it, tell me why.


End file.
